


In a Rut

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But only about two sentences of actual sexual content, Camping, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, PG-rated porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an effort to bring spontaneity into their relationship, Enjolras and Grantaire go camping. It goes about as well as can be expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Rut

**Author's Note:**

> Poorly-written blowjobs.
> 
> That's really the only note I have.
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I own nothing. I also accidentally typo'd 'own' just now and had it spell 'won'. Which incidentally is also true: I won nothing.

“Are we in a rut?” Enjolras asked suddenly one day, setting his copy of _The Economist_  on the coffee table, ignoring Grantaire’s grumble of protest as Enjolras’s stomach moved under his head.

When Enjolras had sat back, Grantaire wriggled so that he was in his previous position and asked, “Why in the world would you think that? What the hell does that even mean?”

Sighing, Enjolras began carding his fingers through Grantaire’s hair, smiling slightly at the way Grantaire arched up into the touch, though his eyes remained distant. “Nothing, it’s just…it’s something Courfeyrac said.” When Grantaire just looked up at him, Enjolras sighed again and elaborated, “Courf implied that I…am not the most spontaneous of people, and asked what you and I did for dates. When I told him, he shook his head and said we sounded like we were in a rut.”

“Well sorry that we all can’t be as spontaneous as Courfeyrac,” Grantaire said in a low tone, sitting up slowly, his eyebrows drawing together. “So Courfeyrac thinks we’re boring, is that it? Do  _you_  think we’re boring?”

“No!” Enjolras said defensively, though he hesitated. “I don’t know? I don’t know what this is supposed to be like.  _You’re_  the one who’s dated a lot, not me.”

Grantaire crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well if you think we need spontaneity, we can try it, I guess. What did you have in mind?”

Enjolras bit his lip as he looked at him thoughtfully. “How do you feel about camping?”

* * *

 

“This was the worst idea of all time,” Grantaire shouted over the wind that rattled the trees branches above their head, gripping his windbreak as close to his body as he could as he watched Enjolras struggle with the tent poles. “I thought you were a boy scout once!”

Enjolras glared at him and gave him the finger, shouting back, “I was a cub scout and I was seven. I didn’t put up a damn tent  _by myself_.”

Shivering, Grantaire looked up at the sky, which was rapidly darkening. “Whatever. I just hope you learned how to make a campfire or this is going to be a really,  _really_  bad night.”

Though Enjolras glared at him again, he also looked up at the sky, biting his lip. “Fuck. The weather was supposed to be clear all day.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Maybe try telling the weather that?”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Ok, um, campfire first, maybe? And then tent later?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?” Grantaire asked, walking over to him.

“Telling,” Enjolras said firmly, though he looked anything but. “I need you to gather some kindling - little branches, like twigs, things that’ll burn easily.”

Grantaire nodded and set about his task without about as much enthusiasm as he went about any task Enjolras assigned to him - which is to say, none at all. “You know,” he said conversationally, frowning at the dirt on the stick he had just pried out of the mud, “we could just abandon this. Admit that we are boring and hoof it back to civilization. I’m ok with that.”

The look Enjolras gave him was enough to melt glass. “We are  _not_  admitting defeat,” he snapped, grabbing a few larger branches and beginning to set them up in a teepee. “We are better than that, damnit.”

“Fine,” Grantaire sighed, setting the pitiful pile of twigs he had gathered down next to where Enjolras knelt. “It was just a suggestion.”

Enjolras had set the kindling in the middle of the teepee and was trying to light the fire with Grantaire’s battered Zippo, squeaking in pain and surprise when the lighter burned him. Grantaire sat down a little ways away and laughed. “Good going. I see you’ve learned a lot from your scouting days.”

“Are you planning on being helpful?” Enjolras asked through gritted teeth. “I mean, were you planning on helping me  _at all_  with this?”

Grantaire threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know, I figured my former-boy scout boyfriend could put up the damn tent and start the fire while I just sat around sneaking marshmallows out of the bag and told ghost stories when it got dark.”

Enjolras froze in place. “No ghost stories,” he practically snarled.

Raising one eyebrow, Grantaire asked sweetly, “Aww, are you scared?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, emphatically. “You know what ghost stories do to me. I almost  _killed_  you seven days after watching  _The Ring_  because I was terrified you were that stupid fucking girl coming out of the TV to kill me.”

Grantaire almost doubled over laughing at the memory. “Oh man, I remember that. You should’ve seen the look on your face. That was the best ever.” He stopped laughing when he saw the look currently on Enjolras’s face. “Right. So no ghost stories. But I’m not above sneaking marshmallows.”

Whatever Enjolras’s retort was going to be was lost in the sudden  _woosh_  of flames as the carefully constructed wood pile caught fire. “We have fire!” Enjolras crowed, unnecessarily, looking far too pleased with himself.

His celebration was cut short by a roll of thunder and the start of a sudden downpour. “Shit!” Enjolras yelped, grabbing as much of their stuff as he could to run it back to the car.

Grantaire just blinked up at the sky, the pelting rain already causing his clothes to plaster to his skin. “Yup, I was right,” he said resignedly. “This was the worst idea ever.”

* * *

 

“Well  _this_  isn’t so bad,” Grantaire said about ten minutes later, stripped out of most of his wet clothing, leaving just his boxers on as he huddled next to Enjolras for warmth. “Which is to say it could definitely be worse and I really don’t want that to happen.” He looked up at the trunk door that was acting as an overhang as they sat in the back of Enjolras’s SUV (a hybrid, of course). “I mean, I think this is probably cheating, so I’m not sure what this says about us being boring…”

Enjolras smiled and pressed a kiss to Grantaire’s temple. “Let Courfeyrac say we’re boring. He’s probably just jealous.”

Grantaire made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and snuggled in closer to Enjolras. “Damn straight,” he muttered. “He’s back in his apartment warm and cozy while we’re out here freezing our asses off. I’m sure he’s really jealous.”

“Oddly enough, you don’t feel very cold to me…” Enjolras said off-handedly, one of his hands skimming down Grantaire’s side and sliding underneath the waistband of his boxers. “In fact, I’d say you feel really warm.”

Grantaire groaned. “Yeah, no, Courf’s definitely jealous of us,” he said, rolling his hips to meet Enjolras’s touch. “Fuck — yeah, definitely jealous.”

“Mmmm,” Enjolras hummed, beginning to tug Grantaire’s boxers down. “Yes, I would definitely be jealous of anyone who got to see this on a daily basis.”

Snorting, Grantaire half-heartedly swatted at Enjolras’s hand. “Be serious,” he grumbled.

Enjolras just grinned at him mischievously. “Nope. We have a rut to break, after all.” And with that, he yanked Grantaire’s boxers all the way down and licked up Grantaire’s half-hard cock before taking most of it into his mouth.

“Jesus fuck,” Grantaire gasped, hands lacing in Enjolras’s curls. “You realize having sex in a state park is illegal, right?”

Pulling back so that his mouth made an obscene pop as Grantaire’s cock slid out of it, Enjolras raised an eyebrow at Grantaire. “Your point being? Illegality is spontaneous, right? And are you really complaining?”

As he bent to once again half-swallow Grantaire’s now fully hard cock, Grantaire squeaked in a voice an octave higher than normal, “Nope, not complaining at all. You…fuck…carry on.”

After Enjolras had finished and Grantaire had enthusiastically returned the favor, they lay back against the floor of Enjolras’s SUV, panting. Grantaire chuckled and rolled over to press his face against Enjolras’s chest, kissing his skin lightly. “Can I be honest about something?”

Enjolras shifted so that his arm was securely around Grantaire’s shoulders, holding him closer. “Anything.”

“I love our rut,” Grantaire murmured against Enjolras, his voice soft and sleepy. “It’s warm and it’s comfy and it feels like home. And it’s honestly the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. I will trade whatever Courf’s idea of an exciting relationship is for this rut any day of the week.”

Enjolras grinned, tipping Grantaire’s chin up so that he could kiss him, a slow, heady kiss. “And I love you,” he said, his voice low, “rut and all.”

Grantaire was quiet for so long that Enjolras was certain he had already dropped off to sleep, but then he heard him murmur sleepily, “Oh, and Enjolras?”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asked, playing with Grantaire’s hair, a contented smile on his face.

“We are fucking never going camping again.”


End file.
